Skeletons In My Closet
by PerfectPerception
Summary: Eventually Hollywood destroys even its finest specimens. Jake Ryan is next in line and Lilly makes a misguided choice to save him. Even if he takes the pleasure of tearing her life apart while Jackson struggles to piece it back together. JxLxJR OxM
1. Prologue

**Notes:** I know I shouldn't be starting a new _Hannah Montana _story when I just began another but I promise to finish all my stories by summer. I _promise._  
&Yes, I'm a Jake/Lilly fan! A really, really big one at that. But, with that being said, don't let my proclamation fool you into thinking this is strictly a Jake/Lilly story. I mentioned Jackson in the summary for a reason. Let the love triangle begin :)

Also, for future reference:

1. Following chapters will be in first person and will either be Lilly's or Jake's point-of-view (of course, it'll be mentioned at the beginning of the chapter).

2. There are no solid pairings. Both Jake/Lilly or Jackson/Lilly are fair game.

3. They're all imaginably older. Their ages range from sixteen to eighteen.

4. It's rated 'T' for a reason. Adult topics will be touched upon.

5. Depending on where I'm planning to take this story, I may change the rating.

That's all I can think of now. Enjoy and feedback would be wonderful!

* * *

**Prologue**

It smelled like rain and summer's first breath.

Lights and flashes of artificial color scattered across Lilly's vision as she stumbled across the crowded, suffocating room consumed by waves of overwhelming music bouncing across the walls. To better her balance she pressed herself against a wall, adjusting her pink wig before sliding and eventually slipping into a restroom. Finally she was able to shield herself from the outside's thickened air and piercing sounds and she sighed in realization and relief, leaning forward as she grasped onto the bathroom's sink soiled and mottled by makeup and spilled drinks.

She was alone.

No Oliver or Miley by her swaying, straying side. They were waiting in Hannah Montana's limo outside; probably with Miley draped messily across Oliver while he soothingly rubbed her back as colors whirled in her head and words danced across her tongue. Their Mike and Hannah costumes must be halfway off. Oliver would no longer be sporting his Mike goatee—Miley always complained about how it left burning, itchy marks across her skin—while Hannah's blonde tresses would be deposited on an occupied seat—Oliver _had_ gotten over blondes a fairly long time ago—as they impatiently waited for Lilly's return.

Lilly blinked when the abrupt sound of dry heaving permeated the silence she previously dwelled in. She tensed at first, gradually lessening the stress she placed on her muscles as she bent low to the ground and glanced under the three bathroom stalls. A hunched over body occupied the last one and it jerked violently when it vomited again into the stall's toilet. She cringed at the sound of strangled pain.

It was a guy. Lilly knew. It was a guy who was throwing up the last of his liquor into the toilet by the sound of his hoarse gasps and his baggy but clinging clothes. It was definitely a guy and she probably should've left upon the assumption but she straightened herself upward instead and peered through the unlatched door, her eyes widening at the alarming discovery.

It was a blur from then.

All she could remember was asking out loud "_Jake Ryan_?!" because seventeen year old rising actors weren't supposed to mistake the women's bathroom for the men's and they weren't supposed to be emptying their stomach's contents out into public toilets and they weren't supposed to be drunk beyond recognition. And then she instinctively hauled him to his feet and somehow miraculously managed to drag him to Hannah's parked limo without a second thought.

She balled her hand into a fist as she pounded it frantically against the tinted window until Oliver languidly opened it, yelping comically when she threw Jake's body onto his. He spluttered words of distaste and equal disbelief while Lilly ignored his comments and climbed in, shutting and securing the door behind her.

Miley was giggling in her seat, playing with the ends of her Hannah's blonde wig. Another drink and she would've probably been in Jake's state. _Gone_.

Meanwhile the aforementioned teen managed to sit himself upright, wedged between Oliver and Miley's forms, while Lilly took the seat across from theirs. Oliver appeared reasonably pissed at the separation from Miley who was laughing as Jake smirked clumsily at her. Oliver suddenly jerked the blond star away from the snickering girl, leaning forward as his eyebrows furrowed in evident displeasure.

"Okay, so why the _heck_ is—is this, this _jerk_ doing in here?!"

"Oken!" Jake yelled, patting Oliver hard in the shoulder. "Long time no see! How're you?"

Oliver's attention strayed momentarily. He glanced at Jake, shooting him a glare before murmuring dryly, "great; just fantastic."

"My publicist told me you—I mean, _Mike_—and Hannah have been getting pretty chummy," the celebrity continued loudly. "Lucky guy you are, you know, dating someone as good-looking as Hannah. Her eyes are like skies, kinda. All blue and everything. Have you noticed that rack she got? I don't remember Miley ever having—"

Lilly suddenly started screaming while Miley started crying.

Unfazed, Oliver proceeded to punch Jake Ryan's perfect face in.

Welcome to the biggest mistake Lilly's made in her entire life:

Jake Ryan.

* * *

-Hmmm. I couldn't help but add a touch of my Oliver/Miley love. Sorry about that. But anyways, reviews would be lovely :)


	2. Lights

**Notes:** I hope you all had a safe New Years or, at least, a better one than me. I'm seriously dying right now. My head is spinning so fast. Note to self: don't ever drink… again. But on a story-related note, thank you so much for the supporting feedback, guys. I can't express how much it meant for me. :)

_Lilly_'_s POV._  
**Lights**_  
_

Somehow, amidst the punches and jabs, Oliver managed to pull Jake onto the vehicle's floor.

Miley was crying hysterically and drunkenly adjacent from me with glassy, thick pristine tears gliding effortlessly over her shimmering cheeks coated with blush and foundation. Something inside of me lurched at my observation of how beautiful she _still_ was even when she looked so completely sloppy, messy, and broken. She really _should_ look like a hot mess with her eyes dilated and red, smoke reeking off her wild, undone hair, and sobs racking through her throat.

But she didn't.

And I was Lilly, her best friend, and I shouldn't hate her for being so pretty even when she was at her ugliest state.

"No! No! No!" she screamed childishly at the two boys fighting near our feet.

"Oliver! Oliver, _stop_." I hissed, coming to the rescue as I grabbed a fistful of Oliver's hair and yanked him forcibly backwards.

He yelped as he fell onto his back, his head colliding into the untouched liquor glasses placed on the side of the limo. Good. He deserved it. I then glanced at Jake, cringing when I caught a glimpse of the damage Oliver had done.

The doughnut really did a number on the celebrity.

"Drop him off." Oliver ordered darkly. "_Now_."

"If he goes, you go with him," I heard myself growl.

What. The. _Hell_.

Oliver was apparently thinking the same thing as he cocked his eyebrows. "What?! Why are you even helping him? What the heck did he ever do for you?!"

My mouth shut upon his words. What _did_ I owe Jake? Absolutely nothing. I knew. But there was something about him that was screaming… screaming _so loud_ that he needed help. That he was worth saving from the bottomless, unrealistic depths of what Hollywood had called fame. Thankfully, I didn't have to explain my inexplicable need to help Jake Ryan because he answered Oliver for himself.

Without so much as a warning, he threw up all over the mini bar.

I took a bucket meant for ice and a wine bottle and shoved it in his face, supplying him with a cleaner alternative than spewing his stomach's contents all over the expensive limo's leather. I peered over the blond to look at my brunet friend, frowning with heavy severity before quirking an eyebrow as a response to his earlier question.

Oliver pursed his lips together in distaste and displeasure at my explanation but chose to shut his mouth. Instead of voicing his opinions that I know would've been on the crude side, he pulled himself off the floor and onto the seat where Miley was still crying. He slid an arm around her heaving shoulders and she immediately calmed at the gesture, looking at him with intoxicated eyes and he grinned steadily back.

_Just keep him where it's safe_, I could hear Oliver silently demand.

I could only assume 'safe' conspicuously meant 'away from Miley'.

Fair enough, I thought. Jake was far too preoccupied by cradling his bruised face I was certain he'd feel more in the morning to even bother with Miley.

The rest of the drive was silent.

That is, until I realized I had absolutely no whatsoever idea where I was going to drop Jake off. When Miley's house came within view—where Oliver and I both decided we'd crash for the night—I looked at my friend desperately and I could already hear his resounding answer. So I tactfully turned to Miley instead, who was half asleep with her head quite comfortably resting on Oliver's shoulder and, before the aforementioned doughnut could stop me, I asked her sweetly.

"Miiiiiiiiley," I made sure my voice was high pitched as I could possibly make it, just to irritate her enough to agree to whatever I proposed to her. "Can Jake sleep at your house tonight with me and Oliver? Pleeeeeeease?"

She cringed at my rather cruel method of getting my way but nodded, murmuring something incoherent to Oliver. He fixed a pissed expression on his face upon her approval and I stuck my tongue out at him, basking in my win as I dragged Jake's slumped form from the limo with Oliver and Miley in toll.

My new high top converses were dragging against the pavement from the added weight and I had to rudely remind Mr. Blondie that he was functional enough to walk.

"Right!" he laughed into my ear that sent shivers up and down my spine. I reminded myself it was solely because his breath was so warm and his lips were so close. It wasn't because I was nervous or anxious that he was so close.

We managed to make it to the door and he already forgot what I said earlier, leaning his weight on my significantly smaller body. My breath became heavier and deeper because he was pressed so tightly against my ribcage; I thought he physically labored my breathing.

"Miley, where's the key?"

I heard a squeal and a giggle in response to my question and I didn't think she was so exhausted anymore. She was still drunk, from what I could tell with her slurred words and Oliver's warning that she'd fall if she walked so fast. Evidently, she didn't take heed to his words and he was forced to pick her up and sling her over his shoulder. He then rummaged through her purse, easily deciphering her keys from her makeup products with his fingers and thankfully unlocked the door.

I staggered into the empty house, pushing Jake onto the beloved couch the Stewart family used on a regular basis. Oliver had no intention of letting Miley go, let alone allow her to associate with an intoxicated Jake, and skipped saying goodnight to me and Jake and carried the popstar up the stairs and to her bedroom.

I made a quick mental note to get up there as fast as possible. You know, just to make sure those two didn't get too 'cozy'. Oliver promised Mr. Stewart he'd spend the night in Jackson's room and _I_ was going to keep that promise—even if he didn't want to.

And then there was another reason that compelled me to ruin whatever moment those two were having. I thought… I thought it was called _jealousy_. But I hadn't a clue why. I wasn't in love with Oliver and I definitely was nowhere near in love with Miley. I thought I was in love with the idea of what those two embodied. Not necessarily a perfect couple, because neither Oliver and Miley or Mike and Hannah pegged that title. But rather something I couldn't reach.

They were so familiar with one another and yet so awkwardly cute. Sometimes they didn't fit at all, like they were two puzzle pieces belonging to separate puzzles or glass shards from different broken glass figurines. Like, they shouldn't work, but they did.

That was when the foreboding feeling twisted inside of me and I knew that was it.

I looked at Jake who was passed out on the couch and I quickly hurried up the single flight of stairs and into Miley's room. I'm not sure if I was lucky, though, because I didn't find Oliver and Miley making out like I initially believed they would be engaging themselves in such heated foreplay, but rather Oliver tucking Miley in with his lips pressed gingerly against her forehead.

"All right, all right, save the mushy stuff for the morning!" I squeaked and Miley, sobering up, smiled goofily at me in response while Oliver groaned to himself before trudging out of the room.

I headed into the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind me after I switched the lights on. And then it was finally okay to be less than perfect and I sighed to myself, delicately pulling the pink wig off my head. My temples were pounding and I thought that I should probably cater more to Jake with his bruised eye and bloody nose but saving him from alcohol poisoning was enough for one night, I thought.

_My hair has gotten long_, I suddenly realized as I stared long and hard at my reflection in the mirror. I played with the ends of it, frowning at something that I didn't even know and within a matter of seconds a few tears trailed their way to the bridge of my chin.

I told myself I was just tired and the adrenaline was wearing off and I wasn't crying because I wanted to, I simply just needed to.

But that sounded like such a lie.

"Liiiiilly!" Miley whined from the bedroom. Okay, so maybe she wasn't entirely sober yet.

"Yeah?" I called back.

"My head hurts!" she complained and my frown deepened.

My self-loathing time had come to an end and I left the bathroom for the kitchen to grab Miley a bottle of water and bread to help speed up her sobering process. From previous experience, I knew neither remedy really worked but it was still worth a shot.

Just as I hopped down the last stair I literally bumped heads with someone.

"Dangflabbit!"

"J-Jackson?" I squeaked, rubbing my sore forehead.

Besides the fact that he used an excessive amount of his southern charm to curse the sudden pain, I only thought it was him because I was actually tall enough to head butt Jackson in the first place. I only reached an inch under Oliver's shoulder and I was at least a good head shorter than Jake.

I was right.

"Oh, it's you," he sighed in relief. Something inside of me turned at his dismissing words.

Yeah. It was _just_ me.

"Miley drunk?"

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "Um, kinda… yeah."

"Figured," he chuckled deeply. "I heard her singing to Oliver from my room. I also heard the infamous Jake Ryan is crashing in _my_ humble abode tonight. Am I correcto mundo?"

"That's my fault," I admitted guiltily, peering at him through hooded eyelashes as I titled my head downward in shame. "I kinda found him in the club's bathroom and I… I kinda didn't think I should have just left him there, you know? I asked Miley if he could stay the night and she said it was fine. I hope you don't mind."

I could see him flash me a smile and the moonlight danced across his pearly whites that I never noticed he possessed until that very moment.

"Course not," he assured me. "Just don't let Rico get a whiff of his whereabouts. You know the little midget would take a few pictures and milk Jake's stay for all it's worth. Seriously, that devil's hunger for money is worse than Uncle Earl's hunger for food on Thanksgiving. You blink and the turkey is _gone_."

A smile rolled onto my face and I giggled at his animated explanation. "Yeah, I'll try to keep Rico's 'hunger' in mind. Thanks Jackson."

"Anytime Lil," he replied before ambling up the flight of stairs.

I then made a beeline to the refrigerator in the kitchen and swiped a bottled water before heading up the flight of stairs. Just as I stepped quietly into Miley's room with the aforementioned girl fast asleep I realized Jackson had just called me _Lil_. Not Lilly, girl, or Miley's friend. But Lil.

I grinned crookedly, feeling my heart clank against my ribcage.

It sounded nice falling from his lips.

* * *

-As always, feedback would be amazing. Next chapter will be written in Jake's self-absorbed POV. :D


	3. Heartless

**Notes:** I'm pretty certain you're going to hate my characterization of Jake. But he already _was_ arrogant to begin with I'm sure a few more years in the spotlight would add a little more weight to his already large ego.

_Jake_'_s POV._  
**Heartless**

My head was throbbingthrobbingthrobbing with blood pounding violently against my skull. I just woke up and I thought I was in _hell_.

I permitted a groan to escape past my chapped lips and I dragged my heavy hand down to my jeans' front pocket and pulled out a tube of chapstick, uncapping it before I hauled the hardened petroleum substance across my dry mouth.

I then allowed it to slip from my fingers, rolling off the couch I found myself on when I initially woke up and watched it collide onto the wooden floor beneath me. The surrounding furniture was vaguely familiar to me and, just as I managed to roll myself onto my back, I realized I was in Miley Stewart's house.

Then there was a soft, feminine whimper emitting from the back of me and I forced myself off the couch, straightening my wrinkled clothes and glanced around.

A smile appeared across my newly revived lips.

"Miley!"

She flinched at the volume of my greeting and I was relieved it wasn't _me_ who she was trying to disappear from. But why would she try to fade away from me in the first place anyways?

I was _thee_ Jake Ryan after all, right?

She was bundled up in her bed's comforter, draped around her thin shoulders and concealed her tiny little body I could still remember hugging and holding. Her hair was a mess, pulled and tangled up in a sloppy but effortless bun and her makeup she forgot to remove last night was smudged on her bottom eyelids and her smoky eyes became even smokier with her gray eyeshadow unintentionally darkened to a stormy iron color. She appeared worn and a little unclean, probably because of last night. I wasn't sure how I was relocated from the club to her house but I wasn't complaining. Admittedly, I had a _few_ ideas inclined to how I got here but they shattered shortly after when her brown-haired friend popped up from crouching behind the kitchen's island with a frying pan in hand.

So I guess I wasn't the _only_ one who came home with Miley last night…

"Jake," he greeted in a huff and I silently thought it was nearing a growl. He placed the pan on the gas-powered stove, turning it on afterward.

"Hey Oken," I smiled back even if the throbbing worsened at the sudden movement.

He gave me an odd look and I could've sworn there was a little satisfaction biting at the irises of his brown eyes. And that was when I noticed there were cuts across his right hand, just around the knuckle area and I glanced at Miley next. Her eyes were locked on Oliver's same hand I was previously staring at; harboring a nervous, unreadable expression to her face.

My eyes widened and I scooted off to the counter where a toaster was placed. I crouched down to look at my reflection, immediately grabbing my bruised and battered face in surprise.

_Jesus Christ_.

What the hell happened last night?!

My head snapped toward Oliver, quickly assessing the situation. His hand—his normal; dull dry hand—was cut up. My _face_—my perfect; flawless face—was cut up. _He_ must have punched _me_.

But why? For Pete's sake, I was Jake Ryan! Who would allow someone to do that to _me_?

I suddenly saw red.

I had to destroy his face.

I wanted to punch my perfect hand in his ugly head but instead I heard myself scream, "_my FACE_! What did you do to it?!"

Surprisingly, Oliver cowered in response. Miley knitted her eyebrows together, a crease forming over her tanned forehead and she blinked at me in apology. I glared at them with patronizing eyes, the palms of my hands pressed against my bruised cheeks.

"I—you…" Oliver spluttered out. _There you go. Stutter you pathetic, worthless excuse for a waste of my time._ "You were… you were talking about Miley… not _good_."

"You were drunk last night," supplied another voice. We turned to see Miley's friend… what was her name again? Whatever. It didn't matter. "Throwing up in the girl's bathroom, remember that?" I blinked blankly. She frowned but continued. "Well, you _were_. And I dragged you into Miley's limo and you tried hitting on Miley. Oliver was a little buzzed—"

"Was not!"

"—which was probably why he punched you." She sharply arched an eyebrow at him and he clamped his mouth shut in return. "You threw up in the limo _again _so I let you crash here for the night."

I looked at her, fairly unimpressed and her frown grew heavier. What? Was I supposed to be thankful or something? So she let me stay at Miley's home. Big deal. I was pretty sure _any_ girl would offer me her house—not mention her bed and probably her virginity too. Unfortunately, I was only given one out of those three tempting gifts.

Still, I couldn't lose a fan because I hadn't woken up in Miley's bed with her cute little body pressed next to mine. I flashed the blonde a perpetual smile and her blue eyes softened a bit, her guard shattering to the weight of my undeniable charm.

How cute. She liked me.

I gave her a quick once over, quite aware of Oliver's careful stare, and I discovered that she was pretty decent looking. A bit short, lacked the long legs Miley offered, and her soft face was quite contrasting to Miley's thin, tan one. She looked… plain but cute._ Safe_ was the word I eventually settled for.

"Well, thanks then," I eventually said. "But, uh, if you could excuse me for a minute… I want to clean myself up." I spat the last few words, my eyes sweeping over Oliver with bitterness staining my features.

He pretended not to have seen it. Of course he would. The coward.

I guided myself to the bathroom, scowling at my face in the mirror. There was a strip of dried blood trailing from my nose to the end of my chin and I scrubbed the red-brown color off before gently running a finger over my black eye. Perfect, I thought sarcastically. Just _perfect_. My upper lip curled into a snarl and I ran my wet fingers through my hair, fixing the cowlicks and loose strands.

When I emerged from the bathroom I found Miley seated alone in the same stool she was perched upon before. She glanced over her shoulder, peering at me through troubled eyes and I took another seat over from hers. Her face twisted and I could still see she was a bit sour over our lost relationship. I wasn't really surprised. How could she _not_ miss me?

"Where's your dad?" I asked and she blinked.

"Oh, he's outta town for a few weeks. Uncle Earl—I mean, my uncle got a chicken bone stuck in his throat. He could breathe and everything just fine, but… his surgery is gonna take some time for him to recover from. My dad said he's look after my uncle until he's better." She was rambling and she was nervous. Something was different about her. Normally, she was this sassy, overconfident girl that would've rejected my attempt at making small talk with her. Now she was cautious and tip toeing her words against mine.

"Is something wrong, Miley?" I questioned her and she shook her head immediately. "Miley, Miley, Miley," I sighed, leaning closer. "You can tell me _anything_, remember? After all, we _are_ friends now, aren't we?"

She was struggling for an answer, her eyes falling from mine. "Why are you even here? None of your movies are premiering now."

"It's summer, Miley," I reminded her. "I need to get away from LA. Besides, I was hoping to catch up with a few friends."

She looked at me again, arching an eyebrow questioningly. "_Friends_? Boy, if you haven't already figured out yet, I'm _not_ your friend." My smile faltered. _What_? "Oh don't give me that look. We haven't talked to one another for over a year. Ever since that whole Mikayla thing, we haven't seen each other. And _my_ friends don't like you."

"I don't see why not though, I haven't done anything wrong to them." I pointed out and her other eyebrow rose to meet her already cocked one.

"Well, I bet you don't even remember Lilly's name—" Ah! So that was the blonde's name. "—even though you took her to the eighth grade dance. And, if you haven't noticed, I'm… I'm sorta seeing Oliver."

"Sorta?" I repeated.

She made a face. "It's not… official, I guess. Besides, you mentioned something last night about _Mike_ and _Hannah_ being together. You already know, don't you?"

"Well, Hannah and Mike, yeah," I answered. "I just figured it was a joke—a decoy to fight off some Hannah crazed fan."

"Me dating Oliver seems like a joke?" she snapped, offended.

I shrugged half-heartedly. "You two didn't seem to like each other when you went out with me."

"Obviously. I liked _you_, didn't I?" hissed Miley.

I contained a frown. I didn't like the way she used _liked_ in the question. What did she mean by that? She couldn't have forgotten about me already, could she? Of course not. Oliver was just a toy. He would never measure up to me. He was plain, normal, and easy to throw away. I wasn't.

I leaned in.

She placed a hand over my chest, just where my heart was located—_or should be at least_—and she pushed me away. I was shocked and stared at her in disbelief, the expression painted vividly across my face. Did she just _deny_ me?

"Do you really think I was waiting for you all this time?" she growled in disgust. "Well, _newsflash_ movie star, I wasn't."

"Forgive me for thinking otherwise," I spat before I could help myself. "I must've taken your Mikayla sabotage incident the wrong way."

She was really attractive this way. Messy and outraged and perfect.

"That was a year ago!"

"So you'd rather pick someone normal like Oliver than me?" _Because you better cling to all my fame for all its worth. Hannah Montana isn't going to last forever._

"You mean, would I rather pick someone who's been there for me since the day I've known him than you, who kisses me; leaves me for Romania, comes back to me and pretends to be with some _other_ girl for career purposes?" She didn't give me the opportunity to respond, shaking her head and groaning to herself before murmuring, "_don't_ even make me answer that."

She hopped off the stool and briskly exited the kitchen for her room, her blanket dragging behind her footsteps until they both eventually disappeared when she pivoted to the left and walked up the stairs. Her blonde friend was suddenly leaning against the counter, appearing out of nowhere, with her lips in a thin line and her blue-green eyes gazing up at me.

"_Now_ you got her started," she muttered.

I laughed at her comment, throwing my head back in an easy, lucid manner. I smiled, bearing my teeth, and shook my head to dismiss her statement. "No, no, don't worry. I was only kidding. I've missed Miley and you guys. I miss, you know, just hanging out and everything."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, her eyes disagreeing with my feigned assurance.

I glanced back to the staircase where Miley just stormed up.

We'll see who she'd pick by the end of this month.

I then looked at Lilly whose stare was downcast as she carefully cracked a few eggs onto the simmering frying pan.

Maybe if she was lucky enough, she'd become part of my new game too.

A game I, Jake Ryan, never lost.

* * *

-I know you're wondering why Jake hasn't really taken an interest in Lilly yet but I need a reason to make him want to hover around her—and that would be Miley. He was pretty persistent in the past when Miley first initially refused him and I'm fairly certain he'd be even more determined if she refused him _because_ of another guy. So the Jake/Miley implications will be used but cut down to pretty minor. After all, she's got Oliver and that's all she needs, right? RIGHT. :D  
But yeah, I'd love some feedback or Alex Gaskarth. OHMYGAWD, seriously, if you gave me the latter I'd owe you my soul, forrealz.


	4. Last

**Notes:** Sorry the update wait was a bit longer than before. I've just gotten back from winter break and the teacher's are cramming last minute lessons along with study reviews for the upcoming mid-terms next week. That and I'm having a few personal issues that I just can't seem to be able to push to the side. But uh, regarding the Hannah Montana-universe, I just watched the new episode, _Killing Me Softly With His Height_ over my friend's casa, and it revealed Miley is an absolute sucker for guys with brown eyes. Hmmm, who has brown eyes that she knows? IDK, _Oliver_?! Haha. Only kidding. Sorta. Not really. winkwink

_Lilly's POV._  
**Last**

Jake had nothing left to say and so he laughed again and I watched his shoulders shudder as a low rumble of a chuckle traveled through his throat. His hair shook against the nape of his neck and his light eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. I wanted to cringe.

He knew he was perfect and cruel and _fake_.

But he was also lost. So lost and far away, in fact, I was certain this flawless exterior he covered himself with was once nothing but a mask he had worn until he eventually grew into it.

Although, I wasn't entirely sure if I could ever shatter his shield.

The eggs were hissing under me and I glanced downward, away from the movie star, and pulled out a spatula from a random drawer and busied myself with mixing the yoke with the gooey white stuff I never managed to remember the real name of together.

Jake wasn't watching me. Admittedly, I wasn't the least bit surprised or offended. I knew I wasn't interesting enough for him and I noticed the way his eyes earlier trailed possessively behind Miley. It was peculiar how he had evolved from the last time I saw him. Yes, he was arrogant and heavy headed before but now… now he was a monster, laden with vanity and bitterness.

I thought he wanted to destroy Miley and Oliver and maybe me too.

_He was dangerous._

"Is that scrambled eggs I smell? Bingo!" I jumped at the sudden sound of Jackson's voice, blinking rapidly to calm my pulsing nerves. "Oh, but I wouldn't say I'm a, uh, fan of _burnt _scrambled eggs."

I hadn't fully processed his words until I followed his stare; quickly realizing then that the pieces of egg were turning a nasty brown color as the pan continued to sizzle in a violent uproar. "Eep!" I exclaimed, scooping up as much egg as I could with the flat head of my spatula; waving my free arm hastily in the air. "Turn it off! Turn it off!"

Jackson graciously obliged, clicking the stove off and swiftly took over. He grabbed the plastic utensil from my hand, gently bumping me to the side as he then lifted the frying pan and dumped its crispy contents onto a nearby plate. I grimaced at the concoction I made, figuring I'd feed Oliver the ickier-looking parts.

Jake was smiling that spotless smile of his; rehearsed millions of times beforehand and I could see the way he clenched his blue-white teeth and the way the corners of his mouth were two muscles away from turning that charming smile into a vindictive snarl. I wondered if he knew I could see right through him. I didn't think so, because he just looked right at me, like nothing was wrong, like he wasn't scheming and plotting, and becoming more a monster than he already was.

I tore my gaze away and glanced at Jackson who was piling salt and pepper on top of the scrambled eggs without anyone else's consent. I watched with a fixated stare and noticed how dirty his hands were. But there was something… something _about_ them. His motions weren't sloppy like I always assumed they were. They were precise and cautious and he handled anything in his hands like… like glass.

I briefly thought of Miley's poor teddy bear Jackson completely ripped to shreds within a matter of seconds and then reminded myself that it was an act of impulse.

He had matured.

Sort of, at least.

Miley reappeared in my peripheral vision with her hair brushed, her makeup retouched and a brighter attitude painted over her features. Oliver had followed in toll, making less of an effort to present himself as happy to be infected with Jake's unwanted presence. But Oliver was always sarcastic and the farthest thing from being subtle. He shot Jake an overly pleasant smile that had already unraveled at its seams and subconsciously reached for Miley's hand.

Jake smirked and patted Oliver on the shoulder. Hard. "Well, isn't this sorta like old times? Kinda like we're hanging out at the beach again."

"Oh _yeah_," Oliver smiled painfully, his jaw locked and his teeth grinding together. "All. In. The. Same. Room. _Again_."

"You guys have no idea how much I've missed you," continued Jake smoothly. "Having countless fans is great and everything, but it's just nice to know you've got real friends behind you."

"Yeah, definitely," muttered the brunet before peering at Miley.

At first glimpse, she didn't seem bothered by Jake's little exchange with Oliver; picking at the plate of scrambled eggs Jackson pushed toward her. But her eyes weren't moving with her fork and her movements were languid and thought in advance. Her stare wavered and she glanced at something below her plate before lifting her eyes to Jake, frowning.

"You shouldn't be smoking, Jake."

Jake's smile brightened. "What are you talking about?"

"Your breath, it smells like smoke—and it ain't because of the club last night. Besides, there's a carton in your pocket right now. I noticed it before but I thought it was your cell phone." She blinked. "Boy, I _do_ hope you plan on quitting."

"What if I told you I'm _holding_ it for a friend?" he remarked back.

"Then I'd still tell you to throw it in the trash. For you _and_ your friend."

I was taken back. He actually _did_ what she asked him to. Oliver looked mildly worried as Jake Ryan slipped his perfect hand in his crinkled jeans' pocket and pulled out a half-empty carton of cigarettes and flung them in the nearby trash. Jackson was knocking his dirty knuckles against the kitchen counter in a nervous manner and I just wanted to pick up a fork and throw it at the movie star. And maybe Miley too. Because she was playing along with him. And she _just_ told him (yeah, I was eavesdropping) none of us were his friends and implied that he probably shouldn't ever talk to her again.

"Thanks."

They were building a castle of charades and I could see its shadow towering over me already. But it was ironic, I thought, how Miley's entire _life_ was created upon a lie anyways. She shouldn't be a stranger to the game but Jake…

Well, I'd just have to wait until his entire charade fell apart.

Because the Hollywood one he was wearing was already fraying at the ends.

His eyes were worn, his cough was hoarse and painful, and he was breaking down.

Jake Ryan stood so tall.

Yet he was made so thin.

* * *

-Eh, filler chapter, I know. I just wanted Lilly to begin to realize simple, little things about Jackson and Jake—qualities she'd otherwise ignore if she hadn't studied them closely enough. And I've also been run down and just really, really confused and guilty lately. I guess its coming out in my writing? Sorry guys, I hope you still enjoyed the chapter somewhat. I apologize if you didn't.  
And for those who didn't know Alex Gaskarth and still don't, he's the gorgeous lead singer of All Time Low and officially the cutest guy. Ever. Even more than _my_ "significant other" (its all right, though, he's completely smitten with Katy Perry anyways). Um… haha, yeah, feedback? Please? :D


	5. Bitter

**Notes:** Updates are probably going to become scarcer now because school started up again and I've got a few personal issues to sort out. Sorry for the inconvenience.

_Jake's POV._  
**Bitter**

Sometimes I wondered what made me so callous in the first place. I thought back to my fame-induced childhood and I only remembered my parents being supportive in their own rather uncaring manners and agents that became better family than they ever were. I didn't hate my parents—we just never spoke much; we focused and zeroed in on my career and, without them, I'd probably be that cheesy, pathetic boy smiling at you trying to sell you something on your television through a commercial. Fortunately, fate was on my side and now I'm that boy you either love or love to hate. I'm that boy who millions of girls blindingly offered their hearts to, whispered sweet "I love you"s at a poster with my face printed on it every night of their life, and bought every single useless product I endorsed in.

I was just that boy who had been blessed enough with perfect skin that was stretching a little too far, perfect hair that caught the light in every angle, and eyes that could mesmerize you enough so you never saw the condemning qualities to my stare, my words, and my smile. Just pray hard that you didn't try to look too deep. You'd be more than disappointed in the terrible, hidden layers of me.

Because what you see now is all you'd ever get. Trust me.

I grinned at my audience, catching the worry pinned so vividly to Oliver's face and the surprise in Lilly's. She was suspicious, I could already tell. But I also knew Miley would fall deaf upon her advising words if the brunette was in love enough. She wasn't a threat. More of a tiny obstacle I could even avoid if I wanted to.

"Well, I guess I should go," I informed abruptly, smoothly adding to step on the relief ready to awake in Oliver's face, "I'll definitely be seeing you all soon."

"Where are you staying?" Miley questioned, nudging Oliver to wipe that miserable expression off his features. He tried but failed terribly. It only made me grin with twists of sadism more in return.

"With my dad," I responded and I could see her face break at my answer. Her eyes glanced toward Oliver who held his own stare on the displeasing display of overcooked scrambled eggs Miley picked at but had yet to eat.

She squeezed his hand and he looked at her. "Oliver, could you get my car keys? They're on my dresser; we're gonna drive Jake home."

I suppressed a laugh at the drop of his face. It was pathetic. He glanced at me, his eyes narrowing before he quickly nodded, pulling his bitter gaze off of me before Miley could catch on, and stormed up the stairs. Before I knew it, the feisty little singer was dragging me outside onto the porch that led to the main entrance. I suddenly found myself alone with her and, just as I opened my mouth to speak, she sharply cut in.

"Listen,_ Jake_," she nearly spat my name out. "I don't know what you're trying to do—"

"Honestly," I interrupted her, holding up my hands in my defense. "I'm not lying to you—I really am staying with my dad."

Her eyebrows knitted together. _Cute_. She was concerned. "But _why_?"

"Why else?" I smiled. "Mom didn't want me—now that I stopped filming movies until September. She figured my dad and I could 'bond' or something. I guess you could say we've _been_ bonding for the past week."

"You were here for a week?" she exclaimed. "But why—"

"—didn't you see me around?" I finished, arching an eyebrow as she blushed. I pretended to think a moment—like I really _had_ the intention of running into her. Because, being truthful, my drunken little stunt I pulled last night wasn't much different from the nights before I conveniently ran into her blonde friend. Consider me crashing at her house and deciding to tear her and Oken's relationship to shreds pure luck. I then finally shrugged. "I guess we just went to different clubs or something. I figured I'd call you—" (_lie_) "—but we really haven't talked lately."

"Oh, well," she paused, sighing to herself; preparing herself for whatever else she had planned to say to me. "Then… I guess we could try to be friends again, or something?"

"I never stopped _being_ your friend, or at least I thought so," I replied, edging the conversation to when Miley promptly rejected me from kissing her and being her friend all together. She blinked and her eyes grew apologetic. I patted her gently on the shoulder to ensure her I wasn't badly damaged from her words (though, I really didn't give a shit in the first place) and offered her a smile with all my perfect teeth displayed. "But yeah, that sounds great."

She looked relieved and gave me a familiar smile that I, admittedly, always loved. "Great."

The door swung open to reveal Oken and Lilly by his side. His jaw was set at a furious, stiff angle and his hand was resting awkwardly on his blonde friend's shoulder. There were purple circles under her light eyes and her eyebrows looked permanently weighed down to a furrow. She had this contrasting nervous atmosphere around her—at least next to Miley who always seemed carefree and enthusiastic. I always thought that should've been the other way around, considering the popstar's double life containing double the pressures but she looked like she glided through most of it. Maybe Lilly was just bitter.

That was it. She was _bitter_.

So maybe she wasn't that different from me after all.

"Miley, you should probably lie down and get some rest," Oliver suggested. He always suggested, never ordered. He wasn't strong enough to ever do the latter. Not with Miley, at least. Like I said before, _pathetic_.

"Boyfriend say _what_?"

He shrugged weakly. "Lilly will go with us instead. And I _promise_ I won't crash your car or anything—if that's what you're thinking, at least."

She looked like she was about to protest but agreed upon the childish, pleading expression fixed on his face. She sighed in frustration but nodded. He then let go of Lilly's shoulder and moved to rest his hands on her upper arms; leaning forward, while she bounced to the tip of her toes, and kissed her.

Lilly glanced at me; away from the oblivious couple, and cleared her throat to gather my attention. I gave her a careless look and she murmured, "let's get into the car. This _miiiiiight_ take awhile."

I nodded but didn't necessarily want to agree. I just figured I'd follow whatever the nervous little blonde recommended. We stepped into the sunlight that spilled over the smooth driveway and I winced at the overbearing light beating down onto my head. Lilly appeared the least unaffected by the ungodly luminosity and led me to Miley's car, guiding me toward the backseat while she took the passenger front seat.

Safely within the parked vehicle's confinements, I began, "Now when you say might—"

"—I mean, they're going to take all the time they want," answered Lilly. She twisted her head around, looking at me through the gap between the driver and passenger seats. "Jealous?"

I laughed. "Me? Jealous of Miley and Oliver? Of course not. She made it clear that she wanted to be my friend. I have to accept that, don't I?"

"I think you're just telling me everything I _want_ to hear," she said.

Smart cookie that one was. I smirked to myself before questioning her, "now Lilly, _why_ would I want to do that?"

"Because you're cruel and bitter."

"That hurts, Lilly," I commented lowly before my smirk resurfaced. "But I've _got_ a reason to be bitter, what about you?"

"What?" She appeared alarmed and I just leaned back into my car seat, shrugging my shoulders effortlessly and offered her a forced smile.

She opened her mouth again, to speak, only to clamp it shut when Oliver climbed unexpectedly into the car. He had this stupid grin stretching against his ugly face and I could only assume it had manifested simply because of Miley. However, I held my tongue and directed my smile toward him. He returned it, hardened and poorly put together just as much as mine, and I thought then that we were okay with despising one another. Or, at least I was. I wasn't entirely sure how Oken felt about me, besides his evident dislike of my and Miley's past relationship. He seemed to like me fairly well when I first met him—lying to everyone that we were friends only to gain a few more notches on the popularity poll.

I guess Saint Oken wasn't as pure as Miley thought he was.

Miley must have given him the directions to my Malibu mansion a few blocks over because he started the car and drove without any directions from me. As we approached the lot, I groaned to see a few dirty-looking men equipped with cameras surrounding the gates outside. Oliver glanced at me through the rearview mirror while Lilly's eyes remained straight ahead.

"I'm gonna need to borrow your hoodie and sunglasses, Oken," I informed and he nearly choked on his own spit. Instead, he settled with his eyes bulging out. I arched an eyebrow in response. "What? I'm gonna have to hide my black eye and wrinkled clothes somehow. Unless, you know, you _want_ me to tell the media and—"

The car immediately stalled and a green hoodie and sunglasses were hastily thrown at me. I promptly put them on; cringing inwardly at the smell of Oken's cheap cologne. _Did Miley actually like this_? And slid the sunglasses into place before flipping my phone open and dialed my dad's number.

As always, his hoarse voice greeted, "Jake? Where the hell were you last night?! Your mother almost killed me when you didn't check in with her!"

"Crashed at my friend's house," I answered lamely. There was a huff from the other end of the line. "What? Don't believe me? I'm sitting outside in a car with them; they can come in—" I could see the panic rising in their faces and I ignored it as I finished, "—if you want. Okay, just open the gate."

The embellished marble gates creaked open and I leaned forward into the convenient space between Oliver and Lilly. "So, who wants to meet my dad?"

* * *

-I know I'm making Jake out to be this horrible, vindictive person with apparently no heart at all. However, contrary to belief, people with terrible exteriors usually _have_ the same equal amount of hatred and ugliness on the inside as well. I plan on following that quota with Jake unless Lilly manages to change his exterior which, I'm fairly certain, she'd probably be able to do. It'll just take a lot of time and effort. I guess you'll just have to tune in and see if it happens. So reviews would be so motivating and replied to, as always. Thanks so much guys, your support is amazing :)


	6. Secrets

**Notes:** Has anyone heard the screamo version to _Lollipop_? Pure genius, I tell you. :D

_Lilly_'_s POV.  
_**Secrets**

_"So, who wants to meet my dad?"_

Oliver coughed abruptly and I glanced to my side. "I, uh, can't," he answered, his voice wavering from the evident lie. "My mom said she'd call me any second. And I gotta call Miley to," he paused, swallowing painfully, "tell her _you're_ fine."

My insides lurched at the mild itch in Jake's face for him to smirk in triumph. He didn't and I sighed.

"Oh _great_, I get the pleasure of—" I began sarcastically and Oliver hastily drove up the paved driveway and quickly parked in front of the white mansion before unlocking the car doors, nearly pushing me out before I finished, "—going."

"Right this way," smiled Jake and I rolled my eyes, parroting his moves as we edged our way over to the grand entrance. The house was more like a castle—which I never noticed was even perched upon the tall hill until now—with stone walls and brick roofs. Peering into a nearby window I saw expensive, abstract and ugly looking pictures framed in golden frames hung about the white, pristine rooms with maroon red drapes swept across the sides of windowsills. My observation came to abrupt end at the sound of the door opening. I looked straight ahead to find a short, mousy brown-haired (balding) man with a beer bottle in hand greet us.

"Dad, this is my friend Lilly," Jake grinned, snaking an arm around my shoulders. He smelled like a peculiar combination of smoke and coffee. I reframed myself from visibly gagging, just swallowed a heavy breath, and smiled pleasantly along with the movie star.

"Now when you say friend…"

"She goes to the school I used to attend before I went to Romania," informed the blond. "Oliver drove us, but he's in the car; calling his mom."

"Well," I began nervously, "I should, er, get going then—"

"Oh no," Mr. Ryan interrupted and I paled. "The least Leslie can do is to let you in—after everything you've done for him."

I glanced at Jake. His expression was perfectly fixed and I reluctantly nodded in agreement; following the Ryans into the massive mansion they called home. I believed that Mrs. Ryan once lived here at least one time in her life because the exquisite decorations were more on the fussy, feminine side. Jake led me toward the extravagant kitchen with marble countertops and statuesque seats that looked more like sculptures than an object to sit on.

"Anything to drink?" offered Mr. Ryan and I looked at the brown bottle in his hand momentarily before I shook my head feverishly in response. He gazed at Jake questionably before excusing himself to the bathroom, leaving us to the silence.

I broke it.

"This house is…"

"Beautiful?" he supplied and I frowned. He scanned every corner of the spotless room; resting his hands against the cool surface of the dining table as he did so. I stood stiffly at his side. It was suddenly hard to breathe. "My mom decorated it—if you haven't figured out yet. Miley told you my name's Leslie, huh?"

I froze. "Well, uh…"

"Yeah," he smiled, looking at me through a curtain of his hair, "I thought so. She didn't tell you any of my other dirty secrets, did she?"

I shook my head shamefully. "Well, the Leslie thing kinda came out of the blue. She didn't mean to… it just… she just blurted it, by accident."

"Hm," his smile twisted into a corrupted smirk. I wanted to wince. "Well, my mom and dad are separated, obviously. That's another one. Would you like to know more secrets?"

"I—n-_no_," I stuttered, ridding the temptation away. "Just… why are you even telling me them in the first place, Jake? You didn't even know my name a few hours ago."

"Figured you'd _want_ to know them." He shrugged effortlessly and my breath hitched. Why did Miley ever like this guy? Why did _I_ ever like him? Oh right.

He was absolutely gorgeous.

And we—Miley and I—are only human. We're shallow. And we fell in love with an idea, rather than a person.

A perfect idea.

My head grew dizzy and I attempted to the blink the nauseating feeling away. I failed and Jake noticed. He gave me a once over, probably judging my Bermuda jean shorts and my plain white t-shirt, before fixing a curious expression on his flawless face. I swallowed. Hard.

"Do you need to sit down?"

I looked at the blue chair near him. It was sculpted from painted glass, I presumed. It was beautiful but cold and uncomfortable looking. I scowled. "Where could I actually _do_ that?"

Jake laughed again and I wondered if he was laughing at my feeble attempt at a joke or if he was just humoring me in one of his incredibly cruel ways. I'd like to think it was more of the former than the latter but I was pretty sure I was wrong. I felt like I was under a microscope and Jake was examining my every flaw and stiff motion. Why did I even agree to come here again? Oh, of course, because of Oliver and his insecurities concerning Miley.

"I guess not here," his voice chained me back to reality and my eyes met his green ones.

"Can I go now?" I blurted.

"If you want," he said and he didn't need to tell me twice. I had already reeled around and made a quick beeline for the door, faltering at the sound of his voice. "Are we ever going to be friends again, Lilly?"

I hated the way he said my name. The way he pronounced it. The way it fell from his lips. I paused, turning back to glance at him. He was far away enough for me to not even bother with forming a glare and I answered, "we weren't friends to begin with, Jake."

My eyes drifted momentarily from his face and to the empty corridors of the magnificent, cold house. There was cans littered over the pristine tiled floor and it vaguely reminded me of when my dad and mom lived together. I returned my earlier gaze back onto Jake before I could think any farther.

He didn't look the slightest bit hurt at my response and held his smile remarkably well. "Oh, all right."

I left without another word, heading quickly toward the familiar parked vehicle.

"So?" Oliver asked immediately once I swung the car door open and jumped in. Instead of receiving an answer, he was simply given a violent smack to his arm and he yelped. "Ow! What the—"

"You're a _jerk_, you know that?!" I screamed furiously at him, my tone peppered with hysteria and probably insanity—if I thought about it—but I didn't, and proceeded to whack him with the palm of my hand over and over again. He continued to yell and cry for help, now backed up uncomfortably against the car door; cowering in fear. "You're a freaking jerk! Jerk! Jerk! _Jerk_!"

"Lilly! Lilly! Hey—_ow_! Okay, now that one hurt—seriously, Lil! Chill! Oh my god, _please_ chill!" he whimpered as my last assault pushed the side of his face against the window. "The security guard is watching! I mean it! Okay, okay! Fine—I'm sorry! I'm sorry! But you know I couldn't go in _there_!"

"Why?" I hissed loudly, lunging at him again this. However, this time he was able to block me, pushing me roughly back into my seat. "Tell me why the heck not, Oliver!"

"Don't you get it?" Oliver snapped surprisingly in response.

Incidentally, I was taken aback by the sharp edge to his voice because I couldn't find a retort to say back and instead sank steadily into the car's fresh leather. He gripped the steering wheel, murmuring to himself as his grasp became tighter and tighter. I could tell he was talking—well, technically, _thinking_—to himself, probably about the real answer and reason to why he was evidently forbidden to take one step into Jake Ryan's mansion.

"I _have_ to hate, Jake," he muttered almost incoherently. I strained my ears as he continued. "He's so stupid and dumb and so freaking perfect; it's so… so _sick_! He plays all you girls like—like, oh, I don't know… like a puppeteer or something." The sides of my mouth twitched, threatening to quirk at his uncharacteristic use of metaphors. I didn't though and, in my silence, allowed him to proceed. "He just bugs me so much. And what am I?"

I frowned. Was that a rhetorical question or…?

"_Nothing_. Just normal and plain. What if… what if Miley wants him again? What if he convinces her to leave me for him?"

My frown became heavier but for different reasons now.

"Oliver, don't think like that," I whispered. All previous anger had alleviated from me upon the instant of his displayed fear. He turned toward me; his face had fallen, and he looked unconvinced. "Miley would _never_ do that to you."

"I'm just scared, all right?" he mumbled, his lips barely moving. "I don't want to lose her. I just really, really like her, you know?"

"Of course," I nodded, "and she knows too. Besides, what's Jake Ryan next to you, Smoken Oken?"

He made a face. "You really want me to answer that—truthfully?"

I smacked him again. This time playfully and he smiled. "Oh shut up, stupid! I'm trying to make you feel better! Besides, Jake's got an ego the size of, like, a tennis court or something." _And a alcoholic father and a forgetful mother_. I swallowed down my last drifting thought before continuing brightly even if my insides squirmed with discomfort, "and you've got Miley so that's all that matters, right?"

"Right," his smile grew lovesick and he started the engine. "Oh and Lilly?"

"Hmm?"

"My arm hurts. A lot."

"Shut up."

--  
_I've got a secret; you won't believe it  
But I've got this feeling I was put here just for you._  
--

When we eventually returned back to Miley's house we entered the vast home to find fresh pancakes and plates decorating the table. Without a second thought, Oliver followed the sweet aroma and began to indulge himself with the new breakfast; currently now attempting to stuff an entire pancake in his mouth. Miley smiled proudly at the pleasant display; beaming at me before she explained.

"We sorta scraped your scrambled eggs, Lilly, sorry," she said. "But I made us pancakes instead and Jackson _miraculously_ didn't burn a thing."

"Miley," I murmured, my gaze shifting from her to Jackson and Oliver. Both were far too preoccupied with the food to overhear me and so I whispered, "we need to talk. It's about Jake." Her face fell but she nodded attentively, quickly leading me toward another room of the house. She pursed her lips in discomfort, staring at me promptly and I felt myself fidget under her expecting gaze.

"I think Jake's dad might, uh, be an alcoholic." I finally stated lamely.

"He was awake?" she quirked her eyebrows and I nodded. "Sweet niblets. That man is _always_ asleep—or drunk. That's why Jake and I never went to his house."

"Why didn't you ever tell me or Oliver?"

"That isn't something I should tell someone," she answered. "I know that might actually explain why he's such a jerk but it's his own personal issue, you know? He asked for me not to tell anyone and I didn't." She paused. "So what did Jake do when you met his dad?"

"Nothing," I responded quietly. "He sort of acted, like, oblivious to it or something. He even went as far as telling me his parents are separated and everything."

Miley frowned, a crease forming across her forehead. "I never did understand what that boy was thinking half the time. Usually, it was about _himself _but…"

"Yeah," I swallowed. "What did you say to Jake when Oliver went to get your keys?"

"Hm? Oh, I just offered to be his friend." She shrugged half-heartedly, like the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders. "I know he's a jerk and all but I figured I'd at least try to keep him out of his dad's company as much as possible. I don't think Oliver will be too gun-ho for it though."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind that much," I muttered. _Yes he would. He would. He would. He _definitely _would._

Miley glanced at me next. "Do you mind?"

I paused.

I thought of the monster Jake Ryan had embodied and I thought of the fame that swept away whatever was left of his humanity and soul. Then I thought of his alcoholic dad and absent mother and the arguments between them that must have risen in his house; the screams and yells of complete hatred and frustration bouncing across its walls, and Jake arrogantly smiling everything all away.

"I don't know." I finally answered to myself rather than Miley. "I really don't know."

* * *

-I know I haven't updated in awhile and I really apologize for that, guys. Thank you for sticking by this story because I promise I'll finish it and eventually move on to write the rest of my other chaptered stories. :) Oh, and I wrote & posted a Oliver/Miley one-shot: _Eyes Wide Shut_. Ch-ch-check it outttt, yo!  
But, getting even more off topic, apparently my boyfriend looks remotely like Mitchel Musso? Haha. Uh, awkwaaaaard. Oh, & reviews make my day! :D


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